


My boss likes your boss

by naturegirlrocks



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drunk Dialing, Drunkenness, F/F, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Mystrade indicated, Underwear, i hate tagging things, this is my first F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturegirlrocks/pseuds/naturegirlrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally gets an unexpected visitor carrying wine. It all goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My boss likes your boss

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story with femslash in the main ship, well it's tecnically pre-femslash, but hey you got to start somewhere. ;)
> 
> Written on my phone, no beta.

A slick black Audi pulled up beside the police tape. Sally looked up from her notebook where she was reading through a witness statement. 

A long feminine leg with shear stockings and high black heals was the first thing exiting from the back door of the car. The woman stepping out was breathtakingly beautiful.

Some of the uniformed officers straightened up at the sight of her. The woman easily stepped over the police tape like she wasn't wearing a tight designer dress, a fine fake fur boa and seven inch heals, all in black. 

"Ma'am, can I help you?" asked Sally with slight irritation. "This is a crime scene!"

The woman didn't carry any jewels, nor a handbag, just a BlackBerry. Her nails were dusty pink. 

It was not a person you expect to find in a dark back-ally crime scene. If she was a prostitute, she was far too high-class for this scruffy place. Sally wondered if she might be connected to the victim, but it seemed unlikely since the woman didn't seem a bit upset. 

The woman looked at Sally with the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen on a caucasian person. Sally felt a little embarrassed over her own wrinkly grey suit. Her curly hair hadn't seen a brush for over thirty hours, and was beginning to resemble an afro in the moist weather. The woman smiled with neutrally coloured lips. 

"Sherlock Holmes, please," she said and then glanced down at her BlackBerry that had made a beeping sound.

Sally frowned, she should have known, a friend of the Freak. 

"You just have to wait," said Sally taking a guiding hold of the woman's wrist."Get back behind the line, ma'am."

"I don't have time to wait." 

The woman reached inside her cape, seemingly taking up a small flat leather casing from the side of her cleavage. Sally guessed that it was some form of identification, but didn't care. 

"Tough." 

Sally pulled back on the wrist, but slipped over the smooth hand, and ended up holding the BlackBerry. It was warm, not only from frequent use, but from being constantly held in a warm hand.

"You want to give that back," the woman held up her ID-card with the official MI-5 stamp quite visible. 

"If you get behind the line... Ma'am."

"And you will collect Sherlock Holmes for me?" she gave Sally a smile with a hint of amusement. 

"Nothing will bring me greater pleasure than see the both of you away from this crime scene." she looked closer at the ID-card. "Miss Jones."

"Call me Anthea."

The name on the card said 'Helen'. Sally smirked as she watched 'Anthea' effortlessly step back over the police tape. She wished she could move that way in high heals, but since her job often involved running she never got much practice. 

The BlackBerry was returned, and Sally pulled up her own phone (nothing all as fancy), pressing the speed-dial to Lestrade.

"Sir, please tell the... Mr. Holmes that he has a lady friend calling," she hung up.

"Thank you, Sergeant Donovan," Anthea gave her a flirtatious smile. 

Sally wondered how the woman had known her name. With a frown she retuned to her notes, but couldn't help looking up over at the exquisite figure leaning back against the black car. She turned to a fresh paper in her notebook and wrote down a discription, including the license plate.

She looked up as Sherlock walked passed her with his long coat wallowing behind him. He looked for all the world as if he was going to face a stern lecture from his mother, and being very crossed about it. The tall man went straight into the black car without even giving Anthea a second glance. She followed him inside, but not before throwing Sally another wink. 

Sally actually blushed, but disguised it by starring at her notebook again.

"Huh," said Lestrade coming up beside her with John Watson at his side. "I had to see it for myself. Pretty girl."

"It's nothing like that," said Watson with a sigh. "She's his brother's PA. The free world is probably falling down, or Sherlock wouldn't have bothered leaving a good case like this one... It looks like I'm going home alone, again." 

"Me and some of the guys are going to the pub later," said Lestrade. "If you hang on for about an hour so we can wrap things up here, you can join us."

"Thanks," nodded Watson. "I'd be happy to."

Sally was looking to where the black car with the mysterious woman had been just a minute ago. She frowned. 

"Can I come too, sir?" she asked.

"You don't have to ask, Sally," Lestrade smiled turning back to the crime scene. "You _are_ one of the guys." 

"Thank you, sir," Sally didn't know if she was happy over this statement or not.

::::::;

Sally stood in her small closet trying on shoes. She was slightly tipsy, but she still wanted to prove herself worthy of being a woman owning high heals. 

"You have gorgeous legs," she said to the full length mirror on the back of the closet door, and giggled. 

Stripping down to only her panties and linen top, she posed to the mirror. Okay, so she was a bit more than just tipsy, but it had been ages since she had gone to a pub.

First Lestrade had bought her a pint, but after about a quarter of the bitter stuff she had given in to her inner girl and ordered a jug of white wine. None of her, all male, colleagues had teased her for it, and she realised, quite satisfied, that she actually _was_ one of the guys.

She had asked Watson about Sherlock's brother. It seemed he held a minor position in the government, Watson was vague on the details. Lestrade had also seen him a couple of times.

"But he always seem to be in a hurry," the D.I. had said sipping his second lager with a thoughtful frown. "He's always running away when ever I try to talk to him."

Watson had known even less about Anthea. He had tried flirting with her on several occasions, he said, but always got shot down. Even if Watson had a sister of the lesbian persuasion he was unable if Anthea fitted into that category.

Sally thought back on this. Watson wasn't that much of a looker, though he had a special kind of sweetness that certainly made him sexually appealing, and shouldn't be directly turned down if ever offered. 

Sally turned on the radio and laughed out loud when Billy Idol's _Dancing With Myself_ came on. Humming along with the melody she wobbled carefully on her heals into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Even if she could take the morning off, it was still a workday tomorrow after all.

She was debating between cereal, crackers, or toast when there was a ring on the doorbell. Sally gave a irritated huff, and grabbed her disregarded jacket from the back of a chair. 

"Who is it?" she asked through the letterbox. 

"Anthea," said a smooth female voice. "We met earlier today."

Sally stood up straight and stared at the door. 

"I have wine," said the voice from the other side of the wood, metal and plastic. 

"How the hell do you were I live?" Sally opened the door, menacingly placing a hand on her hip. 

"I knocked all the doors in the city until I found you," smiled Anthea, thrusting a large wine bottle in Sally's hands and passed smoothly into the hallway towards the kitchen, her heals clicking the floor. 

Sally looked at the bottle in her hands a full five seconds before realising that she was standing half naked by her open front door. She hurriedly closed it.

"Hey!" She walked to the kitchen. "What are you on about? I have a gun you know." 

"You would shoot an unarmed woman bearing you a gift?" Anthea had already found two wineglasses in one of Sally's cupboards, and put them on the counter. 

Sally noticed that the woman still had the BlackBerry in her hand. 

"Are you ever off that thing?" she asked placing the bottle next to the glasses. 

"Generally never," Anthea smiled. "But for you I'll make an exception," she demonstratingly turned the device off, and then she laughed. "Now I feel just as bare as you look."

"Oh," Sally looked down on her open jacket, linen, panties, and high heals. "Shit. I should put something on."

"Not on my account," Anthea looked around the kitchen. "Where is the corkscrew? I thought we could have a little girl to girl chat."

Sally took a deep breath, and walked over to the kitchen drawers. 

"I'm only doing this because I need a drink."

"Of course," Anthea was still smiling. "Love your shoes."

"Can't walk in the bloody things," muttered Sally pulling out the cork from the bottle with a loud _pop_. 

Anthea pushed the glasses forward, and Sally poured out some of the light amber liquid. It looked like a far better brand of wine than she had drank at the pub. Sally wondered what this might had cost. 

"So," she said. "Sherlock Holmes' brother's personal assistant?"

"Among other things," Anthea took her glass and took a small drink from it. 

Sally watched the curvy body over, raising an eyebrow.

"None of those things though," Anthea laughed, she had a lovely laugh. "Mycroft, Mr. Holmes that is, is for men only." 

She turned and walked into the living room, though she was carrying her turned off BlackBerry with her. Sally followed, bottle in hand. She was fascinated, but still on her guard against the strange woman. They sat down on the sofa. 

"Isn't that unusual?" she asked. "Two brothers, both being gay?"

"I don't know what Sherlock is," said Anthea with a honest frown. "I'm not even sure if he knows that himself..."

"But you are not here to talk about him."

"No," she emptied her glass.

She suddenly looked nervous, and started fiddling with the BlackBerry. 

"It's actually a bit awkward, now when I think about it," she refilled her glass. "You know, it's like when in school, when you fancied someone?"

"God," Sally coughed as he got some wine in the wrong way. "Hrm, I... I'm flattered, but I don't usually go for girls. You are absolutely gorgeous... I mean I have nothing against it. I have tried it, at uni a couple of times, I mean... I'm in a relationship... At least I think I am... He is married, though, and..."

"Calm down," Anthea laughed and put a warm hand on her knee. "I was not asking for me."

"No?" Sally blushed, and emptied her glass quickly to hide her embarrassment, and maybe some awkward disappointment. 

"What I was going to say was: 'my friend fancies your friend', and by 'friend' I mean 'boss'."

"Oh," Sally blinked. "Ooh!" 

"I'm flattered too, though," she smiled, and actually moved a bit closer. "And I'm sorry to hear that your guy is married, those kind of things never end well." 

"Yeah..." Sally gulped down some more of her wine. 

"I also experimented at university," smirked Anthea. "Although, I have never really stopped experimenting since... Keeps life exciting, I think."

"I going to need something stronger than this."

Sally got up from the sofa, almost falling over because of the damn shoes. She kicked them off and walked barefoot to the cabinet where she kept the emergency booze. This was clearly an emergency. 

"Who are you really?" Sally pulled out a half a bottle of vodka from the cabinet. "Some kind of secret agent?"

"Nothing as fancy," laughed Anthea, taking off her own shoes, stretching her toes and ankles, even her bare feet were elegant. "Secret agents only exist in spy novels, Sally. In real life they're all just a bunch of office workers with guns." 

"You said you were unarmed," Sally hesitated as she was about to pour herself a real drink.

"I told you I'm not a secret agent," Anthea placed her wineglass on the sofa table. "Give me one of those as well."

Sally went to the kitchen to get two glasses and some soda to delude the vodka with. She returned to see that Anthea had turned on the BlackBerry again. 

"So," Sally put the two drinks on the sofa table. "Your boss, fancies my boss. Do you know if my boss fancies yours?"

"That is really were you come in," Anthea put the, still turned on, little machine on the table, and took her drink. 

"And why would I want to play matchmaker to the unknown brother of someone I really don't like?"

"You like Lestrade, though," Anthea moved closer to her. "You respect him, and you have been worried over him ever since his divorce, even if he has let nothing interfere with his work."

Sally nodded slowly. She did like Lestrade, he was a good boss, a good man and he deserved to be happier than he was at the moment. Sally took a deep gulp of her drink, and watched Anthea. The woman silently smiled back at her. 

"I don't know if he fancies blokes though," said Sally.

"He has a history of _experimentation_ as well," Anthea gave a amused smile. "Before his marriage that is. As far as I can tell he was very faithful to his wife, she was the one with the affairs."

"Does your boss know you are here?" 

"No," Anthea shifted a little and took a deep gulp of her drink. "It's all my own idea. If it doesn't work out, he doesn't need to know."

"Do you often go behind your boss's back?"

"Sweetie, I work for the British Government, don't you think that's in my job description?"

Sally gave a small laugh, and emptied her glass. 

"Fine, then. I'll try," she giggled. "Another one?"

"Sure."

Anthea refilled their wineglasses as Sally walked to the kitchen to mix new drinks. The alcohol was getting to her head, but she really didn't care at this point. She didn't have female friends outside the force, and hadn't had a girl-to-girl talk in ages. 

Before she sat down in the sofa again she took off her jacket, it was warm, and who cared anyway? Anthea had turned off the BlackBerry again. 

"I've made sure I'm free for the rest of the night," she said. "Now let's do some serious matchmaking."

"Cheers to that," Sally clinked the glasses in her hands together and then gave one to Anthea. "This might actually be fun."

::::;;;;;;

An hour later they had a plan. Though by then the wine and vodka were finished, and they were both quite drunk. The quality of the plan could be questioned.

They had moved to sit on the floor by the wardrobe in Sally's bedroom. Several of the clothes were littered around them from a rummage Sally had done to find an unopened bottle of creamy liqueur in the bottom drawer. 

In lack of crisps they had placed a fruit loop cereal package on the floor. Sally was wearing Anthea's shoes, they were one size too large.

Anthea had taken off her dress, so that they would match in only wearing their underwear, and had turned up the volume on the radio as it began to play some classic eighties rock. Sally couldn't help but admire the black lace bra.

"I want to have clothes like that too," she said and took a fistful of fruit loops to shove in her mouth. 

"Why don't you?" Anthea was slightly swaying to the music, sipping her creamy drink.

"The're bloody expensive," Sally huffed. "They jus' think I was a undercover prostitute."

"You won't believe how many people who think I am!" 

"No!"

"Yeah!" Anthea put on the large purple hat Sally had worn to her sister's wedding last summer. "Gimme some o' those."

Sally noticed that Anthea began sounding more Scottish the drunker they got, it was cute. She passed the carton of fruit loops. Anthea grabbed a fistful and scattered crumbs all over her chest as she gulfed the cereal down. 

"It go' in ma bra," she said, looking down with a frown, her lipstick was slightly smeared.

Sally laughed, she hadn't had this fun in ages. She picked the half a pink loop of Anthea's chest and ate it. They both giggled like mad after that.

"We shou' call 'im," slurred Anthea, finishing up her creamy stuff, licking the bottom of the glass as far as she could reach with her tongue. 

"Yes!" Sally clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Who?"

"Your boss! We shu' call 'im and say I love you from _michter_ Mycroft."

"Yes!" Sally refilled their glasses. "You're brilliant you are!"

Anthea turned on and unlocked her BlackBerry with movements so practiced they were not hindered by the amount of alcohol in her system. 

"Was the number?"

"Gimme!" Sally took the device and immediately got confused by all the buttons, names, and other stuff. "How does this bugger work? Bloody..."

Sally jumped when she must have activated the speakerphone and a loud signal called out. 

"Is it calling?" Anthea had taken some more fruit loops from the package. 

"I think so..."

 _"Hello?"_ came a very sleepy and confused male voice from the speaker. 

"He loves you!" shouted Sally.

"I was goin' to say that!" protested Anthea.

Then they started to giggle. Anthea suddenly laughed out loud and grabbed hold of Sally's arm. They fell over on the floor spilling their glasses of sticky liqueur over themselves.

"Fuck," laughed Sally.

_"What? Who is this?"_

"Sir," Sally tried on her cop-voice, but it was totally destroyed by her drunken giggles. "I must inform you that Mr Holmes loves you..."

"And would fancy a shag!" yelled Anthea before falling over herself with mirth, the large hat was crocked on her head. 

_"Who are you talking to, John?"_

_"I don't know. Caller ID says Mycroft but I think it's some drunken women."_

"Oh, bugger! Wrong Holmes," breathed Sally between hiccups.

"Shag him anyway!" 

"No!" Sally grabbed hold of the BlackBerry. "Lestrade! Don't shag the wrong Holmes! It's wrong!"

_"This isn't Lestrade..."_

"Wrong number," said Sally quickly and hung up.

"You smell good," hummed Anthea leaning in closer. 

"You too," purred Sally. "You smell like toffee."

"Do you like toffee?"

"Love it."

It was impossible to tell who kissed whom first. It was a mutually drunken decision, as was, more or less, the decision of abruptly falling asleep in each others arms on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and underwear. 

\---

Sally was woken up by the voices coming from her living room. She was on her bed, curled up with a soft warm body curled around her. She had her right hand fingers gently twirled through very long dark locks. 

It had been over a decade since she last had woken up with a woman in her bed. If she wasn't so hungover she might have panicked a little, but for now she only marvelled over how her bedfellow still could look so sophisticated while she herself felt like she had eaten a live sheep. 

There was someone talking in the living room. Sally almost didn't bother to care, but she was a police-sergeant, and there were intruders in her home. 

She disentangled herself from Anthea's hair and body, and the blankets that were around them. Anthea had a hand on Sally's back and it tightened a little before falling away. Sally slightly registered the fact that this was not how they had fallen asleep. She was still dressed in bra and panties, though the straps of the bra was hanging down her arms. She only had strength to pull the left one up. 

Her head was beating, and she looked at the time.

"Fuck!" she cursed.

She was supposed to be at work in forty-seven minutes. It took about twenty minutes to get to Scotland Yard from her flat, and that was if she hurried. 

Sally stumbled out towards the bathroom. That was how she was suddenly standing in her living room, almost naked and very hungover, in front of her boss, a member of the British government, a ex-army doctor, and a smirking freak.

"Growth spurt in your teens?" noted Sherlock.

Sally looked down on the small stretch-marks on her thighs in confusion, before realising what was going on.

"Oh. My. God."

The other three men had diverted their eyes, and had the decency to look a little ashamed of themselves. Sherlock was systematically reading her life on her skin. Watson slapped him on the arm.

"Sorry," the doctor said. "By the way, we helped us to a bit of your tea, I hope it was all right."

Sally staggered back into her bedroom, hiding behind the doorframe. 

"Sergeant Donovan," it was the older Holmes' posh voice. "Would you please wake my assistant as you are up?"

"She has his schedule," Sherlock supplied. "He don't know what he is supposed to do without someone telling him. He's like a puppy that way."

"Shut up, Sherlock," sighed his brother. 

"By the way," said Sherlock. "John has given your nightly message some thought, but will in fact be staying with 'the wrong Holmes'."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lestrade

"Oh. My. God." repeated Sally, hiding her face in her hands.

"Err... Donovan?" Lestrade had moved to the other side of the open door, without coming into the room. "Sorry about this. We got here about an hour and a half ago to check in on you. Sherlock said you sounded upset on the phone lady night." 

"This isn't happening," whispered Sally to herself. 

"We lifted both of you to the bed since you looked a bit uncomfortable on the floor. We were going to leave again, but then... Well, we started talking about the case... And then Mr. Holmes arrived..."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Sally rubbed her face. "...Sir?"

"We thought it best to let you rest as long as possible," Lestrade sounded apologetic. "Sherlock said you only need eight minutes to get ready."

Sally was very irritated that Sherlock had figured that out. 

"Where's my phone?" came a murmur from the bed. 

Anthea sat up. Her smeared lipstick was the only thing separating her from looking like a underwear model from a high fashion magazine. Sally wasn't jealous, and she wasn't slightly turned on by the thought that the woman was in her bed. 

"Oh," smiled Anthea catching sight of Sally. "Good morning." She turned her gaze to the door, without even looking surprised. "Inspector."

"Ma'am," Lestrade's voice sounded understandably strained. "I'll just wait in the living room."

Sally closed the door. She looked at Anthea. The woman had found her BlackBerry on the dresser, a slight frown was on her face as she looked it over.

"Plan still in action then?" she asked. 

"What plan?" Sally was pulling on a shirt she found on the floor.

"The 'my boss likes your boss'-plan. Do you want to come to my place this evening to talk it over some more?"

"I..."

Sally hesitantly pulled her fingers through the curly mess that was her hair in the morning. 

Anthea stretched her arms over her head so that some of her joints popped, and yawned. 

"I would actually like that," said Sally. 

"Lovely. I'll send a car for you."

Sally shook her head and began looking through the wardrobe for a decent pair of trousers. She needed the loo but was not going out there again without proper clothes. Sherlock had probably already noticed whatever scars she had, and had drawn his own conclusions, but that didn't mean she wanted to show them to him again. 

"Talking about bosses," she said. "Yours is out there being a lost puppy..."

She halted her movements as a soft hand on her hip gently turned her around. 

Anthea had wiped the lipstick off her mouth and they looked slightly swollen for it. The lips gave the corner of Sally's mouth a peck. Sally blinked in a very panicked way. 

"I hope I'm not being to forward," Anthea rubbed their noses together. 

"No," breathed Sally, leaning into her. "I'm just hungover, need to pee, and have four men in my living room. God, you look so fresh. Don't you feel tired at all?"

"Years of practice. I'm ready to fall over," she admitted with a tired laugh. "My colleagues would eat me alive if they knew."

There was a knock on the door.

"Claire," the elder Holmes' voice sounded from the other side. "Two minutes."

"Coming, sir!" Anthea called, taking a grey dress from Sally's wardrobe without asking, and pulling it over her head. "Mind if I use the loo before you?"

"No," Sally smirked. "'Claire'?"

"You can call me Jane, if you want to," Anthea gave her another kiss, and then left the room with a wink. 

After her own stop at the bathroom, Sally felt much better. It had indeed taken her eight minutes to get ready. 

\------

Later, back at the Yard, Sherlock gave her a once over.

"You do know that you are still wearing her bra, don't you?" 

\----the end.


End file.
